


a few questions for you

by hey_you_with_the_face



Series: flash ficlet [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cashier Dean, Cops, Crack, Dean makes a decision, M/M, Mob Boss Castiel, Walmart, still no clue what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 12:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10944402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey_you_with_the_face/pseuds/hey_you_with_the_face
Summary: Dean gets a visitor at work one night but it's not who he'd expected...





	a few questions for you

**Author's Note:**

> So this one is a bit late, I was having trouble coming up with a way to make it work but here it is. Good news is that I already have an idea for the prompt for this week so there's that. Weekendwritingmarathon's prompt was:
> 
>  
> 
> _The biggest lie you were ever told was that you were a good person._

“Dude, the cops are here!” Andy exclaimed suddenly one night at about two in the morning.

Dean’s insides turned to ice.

He twisted around from where he was organizing his register, eyes searching frantically as he hoped that Andy was just having another drug induced hallucination. At first he didn’t see any signs of any cops in uniform and Dean felt a wave of relief wash over him only for the feeling to evaporate as he saw a pair of men in drab office clothing that screamed some sort of law enforcement. They were standing and consulting their notebooks by the giant soda display at the end of the row of registers.

Dean turned back to his station and hoped that if he didn’t look at them, the men who were very obviously police detectives would leave him alone. Maybe they were here to finally bust Andy for all the pot he sold out of his weirdly painted van. It probably had nothing to do with any of Dean’s regular customers. Yeah, that was it; they were here to bust his pot head coworker for drug dealing.

“Excuse me, are you Dean Winchester?”

Shit.

“Um, yeah,” Dean said hesitantly as he turned to face his doom. He plastered his patented ‘How may I help you?’ look on his face, silently hoping that it would hold up to police scrutiny as well as it did for the patrons of Walmart. “Is there something I can help you with, sir?”

It turned out that only one of the detectives was behind him, a lightning quick glance at the door showed that the other was over talking to the rent-a-cop that the store employed. Dean was a bit relieved to see that that conversation seemed to be pretty light.

Maybe he’d get lucky like that too.  
Hell, maybe this was actually about that chick who’d been caught pretending to be pregnant so she could steal hams.

The detective flashed his badge as he began his spiel. “My name is Detective Henrickson and I have just a few questions for you, about one of your customers.” A photo was slid across his counter and Dean’s stomach fell as he saw the person in the security camera screenshot.

Even with the fuzzy quality, Dean recognized that jaw line.

Son of a bitch…

_Keep cool_ , a voice in his head said soothingly even while the rest of his mind flipped the fuck out, _There’s no way they know that you’ve been talking to Cas, just keep a level head and you’ll be fine._

He flashed the detective a slightly strained smile. “No offense, officer,” he said apologetically, holding his hands out to gesture at the vastness of the store behind him. “But I get a lot of customers; maybe not as many as if I were on day shift but still, enough that I don’t really remember them all.”

To his immense relief, the detective nodded almost understandingly. “I get that in your line of work you see a lot of faces but I was hoping this one might stand out,” Detective Henrickson replied, holding out the photo again until Dean took it and began the pretense of looking closely at the man in it. “According to our sources, this man comes in here quite a bit, almost weekly; he would be buying things like cleaning supplies and gardening equipment as well as other things. Anybody ringing any bells?”

Yeah, someone fit that description. A darkly attractive yet somewhat goofy mob boss named Castiel but obviously Dean wasn’t going to tell Detective Henrickson that.

Time to deflect.

Dean shook his head and schooled his expression into one of grim regret. “Sorry, detective,” Dean replied, handing the photo back. “I get a lot of people in here buying their weekly groceries, a lot of them buy stuff like that.”

Detective Henrickson took the photo with a sigh. “I was afraid of that,” he said tiredly. He handed Dean a card that had his name and a phone number on it. “I’ve been chasing this guy for years but haven’t been able to pin him down since he uses such common supplies. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that one guy could take out that many people just using stuff from a grocery store.”

“Take out?” Dean asked, trying to look confused even though he knew damn well what happened to anyone that had the misfortune to cross Cas. It would probably look suspicious if he didn’t even flinch when Detective Henrickson mention people being murdered. “Like, as in they were like, murdered?”

Henrickson gave him a speculative look, probably trying to suss out if Dean was being genuine but relaxed slightly after a few seconds. “Yes, the man we’re after is extremely violent and has been responsible for the deaths of over a dozen people,” he explained before holding up the photo that Dean had set down, displaying the incriminating silhouette again. “So if you remember anything, please give us a c---”

“Henrickson!” the other detective interrupted excitedly, hurrying over with his phone pressed to his ear. “We’ve got a lead on Novak, our source says he’s going to be down at the Elysian Fields bar in an hour, something about meeting a rival family.”

“Are you sure, Monroe?” Henrickson asked, snapping his notebook shut and hurriedly stuffing it in his pockets. “Get the chief on the phone, I want a S.W.A.T. team on the move ten minutes ago...”

It appeared that he’d completely forgotten Dean’s existence in light of this information. In fact, Henrickson didn’t finish what he’d been saying to him before they were interrupted or even look Dean’s way as he and his partner rushed out of the store.

Instead of the relief that Dean had been expecting to feel once the cops were gone, he felt his stomach tighten painfully with anxiety.

Cas had mentioned in passing during their last conversation about some big to do with a rival crime family, saying that they were supposed to sit down and discuss some terms, and Dean was positive that he’d said it was tonight. 

And now the cops knew too.

Dean fidgeted aimlessly with his register, opening and closing the drawers to his station, as his mind whirled. What should he do? Should he even do anything at all? Up until this point Cas’ extracurricular activities had only been on the outskirts, limited to that one time he hid in Dean’s apartment and Cas’ frequent grocery visits; when they chatted, Dean had never asked for details and Cas only mentioned things in passing. In all honesty, Dean knowing about the meeting tonight was just a fluke. 

_Or maybe fate_ , a small voice in his mind spoke up.

_More like dumb luck_ , a gruffer, more logical voice chimed in.

Whatever the reasoning behind Dean’s knowledge was it didn’t change the fact that he had a decision to make. Sighing, he slipped his hand into his pocket, fingers brushing the body-warmed plastic; he could practically feel the contact information burned into it.

He was actually surprised at how easily the answer came to him.

 

“Dean, mind giving me a hand here?” Donna from produce asked as he re-entered the building ten minutes later. She trying to navigate a skid of cantaloupes around the corner of a shelf and looked like she was stuck.

He jumped slightly at the sound of her voice, his mind still on the phone call he’d just made. “Oh, yeah,” he replied, keeping his voice light as he walked over. “Sure thing, Donna.”

Together they pushed and pulled until the cart shifted around. Donna let out a small cheer of victory and patted him on the shoulder, shooting him a bright grin.

“Thanks! I thought I was in a real pickle there for a minute until you came along,” she said cheerily. She walked over and started tugging the skid towards the produce section, calling over her shoulder as she went, “You’re good people, Dean! Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

Dean could have sworn his phone burned against his thigh at this, reminding him of what he’d just done.

_I don’t know Donna_ , he thought pensively as he trudged back to his register. Cas’ thanks for the warning echoing in his ears. _That might be one of the biggest lies I’ve heard today and you don’t even know it._

**Author's Note:**

> And there you have it folks, Dean is getting in deeper; I wonder how far he will be willing to go? 
> 
> *cue dramatic ominous music*  
> 


End file.
